


baby, it's cold outside

by chalantness



Series: drabble collections [12]
Category: Batman (Comics), Captain America (Movies), DCU (Comics), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: (more pairings to be added) - Freeform, Drabble Collection, F/M, Holiday Giveaway
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-01
Updated: 2018-12-03
Packaged: 2019-09-05 03:47:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,644
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16803031
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chalantness/pseuds/chalantness
Summary: Day Three - Steve/Natasha + suburb 'verse + Sarah's first ballet recital





	1. Steve/Natasha + first Christmas after moving in together

**Author's Note:**

> For my [Holiday 2018 Giveaway](http://chalantness.tumblr.com/post/177076712326/season-of-shipping-part-iii)!
> 
> (The collection as a whole is rated M to be safe, but ratings will vary by chapter, which I note at the beginning of the drabble along with the prompt being filled, just in case something isn't your cup of tea.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rating: PG-13  
> Word Count: ~1,200  
> Prompt: “Chanty, you're amazing! and so generous to do this giveaway again.. Romanogers. first Christmas in a new house after moving in together. Smut is most certainly welcome! :) Thank you Chanty!”
> 
> For: xo-stardust720

There’s a wreath hanging on the front door that hadn’t been there when she left this morning, and a small, plush snowman family sitting on the swinging porch bench, and it makes the corners of her lips tug into a grin before she’s even stepped out of the car. Decorations had made their way through their home in this same way over the last week and a half; garland and stockings draped over the fireplace, an elf-printed kitchen towel set, and, in the middle of their coffee table, a plastic gingerbread village display. She’s sort of holding her breath for the day she comes back to find reindeer on top of the roof, or a tree in their living room, decked out in every colored ornament Steve could find.

She doesn’t mind, not at all. And if Steve thought for one second that she would, he would’ve at least called her while he was still at the store.

She’s never been particularly fond of _things_ all over her apartment, and even if she’d spent more time at home than away on missions, she’d probably be the same way. She’s not exactly sentimental – not like that, at least – but she knows it’s different now that it’s not just her in her apartment.

This is their _home_. This is where James will grow up, running around in circles in their huge backyard, or through the sprinklers on a hot, sunny day on the front lawn. This is where she’ll tuck him into bed every night, and where she’ll hang pictures of him – of them, their _family –_ along the hallways, beside the canvases Steve will paint on in his art studio next to their bedroom. This is where they’ll come home to after every mission, curling together in the warmth of the den, or next to a blazing pit fire in the backyard.

 _Fuck_. That sounds kind of perfect right now, actually.

She unlocks the door and steps inside, immediately enveloped with the warmth from the fireplace in the living room and the heavy, spiced scent of gingerbread in the air. James is bundled in his penguin-printed pajamas and propped against Steve’s chest, one of his tiny fists clutching onto the wool blanket Steve draped over him as his other grips at Steve’s shirt. He looks like he’s two seconds away from passing out right in Steve’s arms – or at least he would have, until he caught sight of her, his face brightening in a wide, sleepy smile. He lets go of Steve and stretches his arms out for her, babbling, and Natasha catches Steve’s gaze above James’s head. “Looks like it’s Mommy’s turn to be your pillow, bud,” he says to James as he holds her gaze, eyes twinkling, and she laughs, shrugging out of her coat and setting it aside before climbing onto the couch beside them.

“Hi,” she breathes, cupping his face with both hands. Their kiss is brief at first, but when she starts to pull away, his hand comes up to curl over the back of her neck, holding her in place as he kisses her a little harder, a little deeper. James babbles between them, grabbing at her sweater, and they’re both laughing as they pull away. “Hi to you, too,” she says, planting a sloppy kiss on James’s forehead. He giggles as she gathers him in her arms, and she cuddles him to her chest, nuzzles her face against one of his warm cheeks.

Steve winds his arm around her shoulders, kissing her temple. “James really missed you today.”

“Yeah?” She gently pokes James’s arm as he tucks his face into neck, and he wraps his tiny fingers around hers, squeezing gently. “Just James?”

He hums, kissing the corner of her eye, the apple of her cheek. “Maybe I did too, a little,” he murmurs into her skin, and her eyelashes flutter closed, relishing in the warmth of his breath, in the slight scratch of his trimmed beard against her skin.

“Oh, a little? How sweet,” she teases, voice flat as her lips twitch at the corners.

He chuckles, his lips grazing over the shell of her ear, and she sucks in a breath when she feels his teeth nip at her earlobe. “I missed you in our bed this morning,” he whispers, his voice low and deep, and she feels a shiver slide down her spine. His fingers gently grasp her chin, turning her to meet his eyes, and he kisses her on the lips, just barely, just teasing. “I missed feeling you writhing underneath me.” He nips at lower lip, then rubs his thumb over it. “I missed your nails digging down my back, your whimpers in my ear.”

“Steve.” Her voice is tighter, quieter, and she licks her lips, her throat suddenly feeling dry. On her shoulder, James wiggles in his sleep, letting out a huff, and she glares at her husband as he leans away, giving her a cheeky grin. “Fucking _tease_.”

He drapes his arm around her shoulder and draws her close, pouting, and she laughs as she rolls her eyes. “We were supposed stay in today, you know.”

“Wanda wanted to grab breakfast.” She feels her lips tug into a smirk. “And then she wanted me to help her pick something out.”

“Something?”

“ _Sexy_.” She blinks up at him from under her eyelashes. “I got myself a little something, too.”

Steve groans out a laugh, resting forehead dropping to her temple. “And _I’m_ the tease?” he mumbles against her cheek. She just laughs, adjusting James in her arms, and Steve leans over to place a gentle kiss to his head. “We really missed you today,” he tells her, his voice growing softer as he pulls back just a little, meeting her gaze.

“Steve,” she says, feeling her chest squeeze, a warmth unfurling in her stomach. It isn’t the first time she’s been away from James all day since he was born, but still, she isn’t quite used to the dull ache that she feels, being away from him. She knows he’s _fine_ , whether he’s with Steve or if they need to have Pepper or Nick watch him. It’s not that she worries about being away from him; she simply doesn’t _want_ to be. Even today, as much as she loved spending time with Wanda again, taking a moment for herself, she knew her thoughts kept lingering to her boys. She wanted to hear their laughs, wanted to play with James in the den and bake with Steve in the kitchen. She wanted to be _home_.

“Did you have fun with Wanda?” he asks, tucking his fingers into her hair and gently massaging them over her scalp, in that way he knows she loves.

She hums, leaning back into his touch. “I did. But I’m going to have more fun showing you how successful my shopping trip was.” She tilts her head to meet his gaze, finding his eyes a little darker, his eyelids a little heavier. “Maybe then you’ll feel better about letting me out every once in a while.”

He smirks because he knows she’s teasing, but she can hear the sincerity in his low, gravelly voice when he says, “Just as long as you come home to me.”


	2. Bruce/Selina + snowed in with mistletoe

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rating: M  
> Word Count: ~1,000  
> Prompt: “So happy/excited for all the giveaways! For Seasons of Shipping, could I please request BatCat, snowed in with mistletoe. And smut is absolutely fine with me! :)”
> 
> For: floydianslip76

“ _You_ ,” he starts, his voice gravelly and low in her ear, his breath warm as it ghosts over the wild thrum of her pulse in her neck, “are quite devious.”

She hums, tries to pull her thoughts together for something witty in reply, but she still hasn’t quite caught her breath. His weight is solid and firm above her, pressing her into the mattress in that way that he does, when he finally, _finally_ lets himself succumb to his exhaustion. Once upon a time, she would’ve shoved a man off of her and slipped from the bed before she would’ve even considered letting him cage her in, pin her down. But with Bruce, it’s different. It’s _always_ different. Being tucked underneath him like this is comforting, somehow, being surrounding by his warmth and broad chest and solid muscles. She splays her fingers over his shoulder blades, presses her palms flat against his sweat-slicked skin as she smooths her hands lower, slowly, twining them together and resting them over the small of his back. She feels his lips curve against her collarbone.

“You’ve fucked me senseless, Mr. Wayne,” she tells him a moment later, when she remembers that he’d spoken in the first place. “You’ll have to be elaborate.”

He nips at her skin, just hard enough to make her lips part in surprise – a playful warning. “You know,” is all he says, but it’s enough, and she smirks because of course she _knows_.

( _And how exactly shall we pass the time, husband, snowed in like this?_

But of course, being Bruce, he’d barely glanced at the sight of her leaning on the doorframe in her tiny, silk slip, his mouth twitching in barely-contained smirk.

 _I’m bored_ , she’d purred, one eyebrow arched, _but I doubt even you could keep me entertained all afternoon._ )

She feels a laugh fall from her lips when she remembers the flash in his eyes, amused and determined all at once by her taunt. It had been half-hearted at best, and not at all subtle, but her husband is nothing if not stubborn, especially when he feels challenged. Maybe _especially_ when he’s being challenged by _her_. Not for a second did she believe he bought into the act, but as soon as she’d spoken those words, she knew he would indulge in her challenge, that he’d narrow all of that single-minded determination onto her.

She certainly hadn’t been _bored_ after that.

Not when he’d pulled himself from the bed and stalked toward her, pressed her flat between him and the doorframe, hooked her legs around his waist and slotted himself so that he was pressing _right there_. She’d fallen apart from just the roll of his hips as he ground into her, relentless, purposeful, hitching her higher up the wall as his fingers bruised into her hips. She had still been shaking through the thick of her high, too, when he pulled her from the wall and laid her on her back, right in the middle of the hallway of the small mountain cabin they’d booked for the weekend, yanking her lace panties down to her knees and pressing two fingers against her folds. She’d keened out a moan as he stroked her slowly, _so fucking slowly_ , and then he’d kissed a gasp from her mouth as her sex fluttered in her second orgasm and he’d slipped his fingers inside of her and curled roughly.

Her third orgasm had been followed by her slip being quite literally ripped off of her.

Her fourth had been an hour and a half later, spread out on the edge of the kitchen island, teased to the edge over and over again by his tongue between sips of whiskey.

Her fifth had been an hour after _that_ , curled underneath him on the couch, her body humming, buzzing, _exhausted_. She had been minutes from passing out until she felt him shift above her, felt the hard, rigid press of his length through the sweatpants he still had on, and remembered that he had yet to come.

And that just couldn’t do.

“ _Mm._ ” She threads her fingers through his hair, drags his head back up to hers, and he drops a soft, languid kiss to her lips. “Now _this_ is how you spend a snow day.”

She feels his chuckle rumble low in his chest. “It’s quite _entertaining_ , that’s for sure,” he quips, his voice dry but his eyes twinkling, teasing. He dips down and kisses her again, and again, his tongue darting out to lick at the seam of her lips.

He coaxes her mouth open, sucks on her lower lip, drags it between his teeth, and she mewls. It’s ridiculous, really, that she can feel a warmth flutter in her stomach again. That despite the way her muscles ache in protest, she can feel her skin tingling, her desire sliding down her spine, coiling and tightening. She arches, purrs against his mouth, urging him to kiss her harder, deeper. She doesn’t even know if she can even survive another orgasm tonight, but he kisses her like he’s promising it, anyway, and _fuck,_ she wants it.

“You’re awfully affectionate today,” she murmurs between kisses, fingers tightening in his hair, and she sucks in a breath when his lips move from hers to her cheek.

He murmurs something into the column of her neck that she doesn’t quite catch, but then his fingers are tapping her chin upward, his mouth curving into a smile against her skin as she stares up at the ceiling. It takes a moment for her to see it in only the glow of the fireplace, but when she does, she can’t help the laugh that bursts from her.

 _Mistletoe_.

“I thought you don’t believe in superstitions,” she points out, teasing, and he kisses her pulse one last time before leaning back to meet her gaze.

“I don’t.” He cups her cheek, giving her a small, tender smile as his thumb strokes over the flush in her skin, and her heart flutters in her chest. “But you’ve always been my exception, haven’t you?”


	3. Steve/Nat + suburb 'verse + Sarah's first ballet recital

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rating: PG-13  
> Word Count: ~1,400  
> Prompt: “Romanogers + suburb 'verse + Sarah's Christmas ballet recital” + this photo
> 
> For: @steph21108
> 
> Set in the suburb 'verse.

He knows it’s his mom at the door without having to glance out the kitchen window. There’s no way Nick would’ve let Sarah answer the door otherwise, for starters, and really, Grandma is the only person Sarah ever gets _this excited_ to see. Maybe other than Sharon, who’s already standing beside him at the island, giggling into her mug of hot cocoa.

“You _made it!_ ”

Sarah’s excited peel of laughter echoes through the air, bouncing off of the hardwood floors and wider space of the living room. Renovations to the house hit a little bit of a snag about a month in, and for a second, they didn’t think things would be done in time for the holidays. And even then, they’d only barely made it. Half of their stuff is still in boxes in their storage unit, and because Sarah’s recital is this weekend, they’d put off having their new couch and shelves and entertainment stand delivered until Monday. Their living is almost entirely bare except for their Christmas tree; even their presents hadn’t made it over yet, still stacked in the corner of Bucky’s guest bedroom, where the three of them and Dodger had crashed while the house was being expanded. The guy swears he loved having them over, but Steve is sure he’ll be glad to have his house back to himself, too.

Especially now that Wanda’s moved in with him.

(Yeah, that took a second to get used to, and of course he’d given Bucky a little shit about dating his daughter’s _babysitter_. But he’s happy for them.)

“She’s so _happy_ ,” Sharon laughs, and Steve grins, because, yeah. Sarah has always been bubbly and bright, and of course she’s happy that everyone is over, and she’s anxious about her recital tonight. But it’s more than that. She’s _thrilled_ , practically buzzing with excitement, and she probably won’t last a few more minutes before blurting out why.

“That’s because she’s the princess to everyone in this house right now and she knows it,” Bucky points out, grinning, and Steve chuckles. There’s no arguing _that_.

Sharon opens her mouth to say something, but then padded footsteps make their way across the hardwood, right for the kitchen, and he looks over his shoulder in time to see Sarah bursting into the kitchen. She has a wide smile on her face, her red, tulle skirt flying all around her as she bounds right for them. He’d half-expected some of that energy of hers to fade as she got older, as it does with most kids, and he’s really fucking relieved that this wasn’t the case. Sure, she’s absolutely matured, and she’s calmed down in a lot of ways. But she’s still the same bubbly, bouncing little girl at nine that she was at six in a lot of ways, too, and maybe it’s selfish, but he doesn’t ever want that to change.

“Look what Grandma brought me, Daddy,” she announces, holding the nutcracker ornament up by its string so he can see.

“That’s awesome, princess,” he says, his hand instinctively moving to ruffle her hair, but she leans away before he can touch her perfect bun, narrowing her eyes playfully. It’s crazy, how much she’s picked up from Nat. “Sorry, sorry,” he laughs, holding his hands up as if .in surrender, and she grins at him as she shakes her head. “Want to put it up?”

“Yeah,” she replies, taking his hand and spinning on the points of her toes, guiding them out of the kitchen.

And it’s kind of ridiculous, really, the way his heart skips in his chest when he sees Natasha laughing with his mom, the two of them still standing in the foyer. _Fuck_ , she’s beautiful. He’s always known this, but even after almost two years together, he still gets this giddy sort of warmth in his chest when he sees her. Especially right now, with her cheeks a little flushed and her hair piled elegantly atop her head and her scarlet red dress draping off of her shoulders, exposing the long dip of her shoulders, the delicate curve of her neck, coming together at her tiny waist and falling away to tease the creamy skin of her thighs. She pushes her hair from her face, her ring glinting in the evening light.

He'd known what dress she was wearing tonight, of course, but she was still getting ready when Nick, May, and Peter arrived, and this is the first time he’s seeing her in it.

(He loves it, but he’s pretty certain he’ll love getting her _out of_ it a little more.)

“Eyes up here, darling,” Natasha teases as he reaches her, tapping his chin up with her fingers. In a staged whisper, she adds, “Don’t check me out in front of your mother.”

“Too late for that,” his mother mumbles with a playful roll of her eyes, and Steve chuckles, pressing a kiss to her cheek. She touches his jaw, giving it a playful pinch, and then she’s taking Sarah’s hand and saying something that Steve doesn’t catch as they head toward the tree.

He slides his hands over her hips, draws her to his chest, and she sighs, her body melting against his as he brushes his lips over hers in a teasing, feather-light kiss. “Hi.”

He chuckles. “Hi yourself.” He slides one hand up, curls his fingers and drags his knuckles up her spine, along the soft expanse of skin exposed by the dip in the back of her dress. Her eyelashes flutter, her lips parting ever so slightly – and then he lightly squeezes her ribs and she _yelps_ and flinches away, glaring half-heartedly.

“Wow, this place has an echo,” Peter marvels, glancing around the wide, empty space of the living room. Steve looks over at where he, Wanda, May, and Nick are across the room, his lips twitching in amusement at the sight of them lounging in the bean-bag chairs Sarah dragged over from her room and the den.

“That might be a problem when you two are trying not to wake Sarah,” Bucky mutters as he passes them, laughing when Sharon (gently) elbows his ribs in warning.

Across the room, Sarah stretches on the points of her toes and loops the string of the nutcracker onto a branch, then carefully fluffs the pines out with her fingers until it’s resting just so. He knows Natasha’s watching this, too, because she’s got this little smile on her face when Steve glances at her. She winks, pulling from his arms and walking over to Sarah. She drops a kiss atop Sarah’s head, leans in to whisper something into her ear, and Sarah glances over her shoulder to smile a bright, beautiful smile up at Nat.

 _Fuck_. He loves these two so, _so much_ , and he didn’t think he’d ever want anything as much as he wants them. But he was wrong.

“It turned out nice and all, but did you really need even _more_ space?” Nick asks, one eyebrow arched, and Steve wonders if he imagines the _knowing_ tone to his voice.

“Last I checked, kids need a lot of space,” Steve says, and Sarah puts her hand over her mouth, giggling.

“Last I checked, you only have one of those,” Wanda points out, gently scratching behind Dodger’s ear as he sleeps on her lap.

“Not for long,” Natasha quips. Sarah’s eyes snap onto hers, her gaze wide and her smile wider, and the room goes completely quiet. Natasha’s lips pull at the corner and she shrugs her shoulders cutely, not unlike Sarah does almost all the time, and May practically sputters out “ _what?_ ” from behind her wine glass. Natasha’s smile widens.

“Nat’s pregnant!” Sarah exclaims, her voice chiming like bells as it echoes through the room, and Steve laughs, pulling Nat to his chest by her hip and kissing her temple.

“Sarah,” Natasha laughs. “Today was supposed to be about _you_.”

“I don’t mind sharing,” Sarah says, wrapping her arms around Natasha’s, too, and giving her a gentle squeeze, and Steve feels his chest squeeze. “As a big sister, I’ll have to get used to it anyway, right?”

Everyone laughs, and then they’re talking all at once, exclaiming their congratulations and chattering excitedly. Everyone crowds around Nat to hug her, which is a little awkward to do considering he still got his arm around her.

But, as he meets her gaze, Sarah’s hand tightening around his where it’s resting over Nat’s stomach, he decides that he doesn’t ever plan on letting go.


End file.
